


prepare your lips, chaton

by Eucalyyptus



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Kissing, Love, M/M, Nervousmess, Nervousness, Paul is a nervous mess, Paul takes care of him, but he’s bored and angry, drunk, drunk!John, he loves his mate tho so it’s fine, lol, or should i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eucalyyptus/pseuds/Eucalyyptus
Summary: John drank. A lot. Nothing unusual.He’s a touchy lad, he is, our John. And Paul has to take care of him because, well, Ringo is already busy taking care of George, and who can really take care of John if it’s not Paul?In other words; Drunk!John, a bored, angry Macca who can’t leave John alone, Corrina, Corrina and a french word.





	prepare your lips, chaton

"Paulie, my love, give us a kiss.."

John tried, once again, to lean closer but he was stopped by Paul's hand.

"For god's sake, John! You're not a bloody kid, now, are you?"

John mumbled something and took a sip of his cocktail, visibly pouting. He was more than drunk and his brain seemed like it wasn't working anymore. They all decided to go outside since they had the day off, and they spent the beginning of the night in a club, talking, dancing and drinking.

For a certain reason, John decided that it was a good idea to be completely drunk; and he didn't even think about Paul! Paul, who was dancing with a pretty bird. Paul, who left the pretty bird because John fell in the middle of the dancefloor, chuckling like an idiot. He, then, spent an entire hour trying to calm him down, but the more time he spent with his best friend, the more impossible it seemed.

"Macca, darli-"

"Oh bloody hell, shut up, John. That's it, we're going back home and you're going to sleep like the fucking baby you are. What a bloody night..."

Paul mumbled and got up, taking John's hand in his.

He loved John. He really loved him, and it was a bit scary sometimes. But John was a bloody git, and he couldn't handle alcohol that much. And of course, Paul was the one who had to take care of him when it was like that. He didn't mind it usually, but he felt so lonely those days. John had Cynthia, and Ringo and George... well, Paul wondered if they weren't actually together. He never asked because... it was weird to think they were if they weren't. He decided to wait for them to tell it. But Paul? Yeah, sure, Jane was a nice girl. She was pretty and clever and creative... but she wasn't what Paul was looking for.

Meanwhile, John completed him. He showed him what freedom was; he understood him on a whole different level. It felt like John was his soulmate; not even romantically. They were the same person. It had to be that way. It was still very new for Paul and he decided not to think too much about it, but he couldn't help it when he drank. It seemed like everything was coming back at him stronger. And with a drunk John touching his arms or his back and asking for kisses and hugs... it wasn't helping, not at all.

Yeah, he loved him, but he totally ruined his moment. They worked so hard, and they finally had a day to relax a little bit. Instead, he didn't go back home with a nice girl; no, he stayed with John and cleaned his shirt when the guitarist accidentally spilt his drink on himself. He also had to follow him to the toilets and stopped him when he tried to order another drink. He apologized because John almost elbowed a girl in the face while trying to "dance" - a poor attempt, really. And it really was just ten minutes of their night.

Paul was exhausted. He loved him, truly, but John was such a bloody git sometimes!

"Rings, Rings!"

And Ringo was visibly busy too.

"Richard!" He tried again, and finally sighed in relief when Richard looked up at him.

"Yeah?"

"We're goin' home. You can take care of Geo?"

At the same time, George's face appeared behind Richard's shoulder. At first, Paul could only see his dark eyes. The next second, he moved a little bit and showed the big, bright smile on his lips. He raised a hand and made a peace and love sign, his other arm around Ringo's neck.

Ringo shook his head, even though he was smiling too. "Yeah, don't worry. I'll take good care of baby Georgie, right, Geo?" George nodded, visibly as drunk as John, starting to climb on Ringo's back. Ringo, as always, didn't look really disturbed by it. Paul chose not to really think about it - mostly because John was talking about this "lovely bird", trying to move towards a woman.

"Great, lovely. See you 'round, then."

And with that, Paul left the club, not really listening to John's complains _("Paul, she was lovely- please Paul, why, I wanna talk to her!")_. It wasn't hurting him; not really, not anymore. John was just like that. Paul was like that too, a bit. Probably because of John. But it wasn't anything serious - looking at a girl. It wasn't flirting - or more! At first, yeah. Paul hated it. The way his throat tightened and how his ears felt suddenly very hot because of his own jealousy. He learned how to deal with it, by now. Because he knew that if it was showing, John would understand what was happening. And he couldn't allow that.

He tried to talk to John during the walk back to their hotel. He knew it wouldn't be useful because John was too excited to answer. He was looking everywhere, talking about the stars _("but Paulie, look, they're so shiny! Look, look, Paulie, look, there, there, the bright one! No, there, this one!")_ and the cute kitten he saw around the hotel. It was always like that when he was drunk. In a way, it was fine. Paul didn't have to think much about his answers. _("Yes, John, I can see the star. Yes, it's a cute cat. Yes, Mimi called two days ago, and you said that you would call her next week.")_ But keeping John next to him was unbelievably hard and tiring.

Fortunately, they soon were back in their hotel room. They shared a room, but they had two separate beds.

"Paulie, c'mon, we can-"

"Johnny, we can not. Sit down, here, sit down."

Paul pressed his hands against John's shoulders, forcing him to sit down on his own bed. He took a cigarette and stuck it between his lips, lighting it quickly and starting to undo John's tie. The older put his hands in Paul's hair, lazily playing with dark locks, trying to pull him closer. Paul just groaned, finally throwing his tie somewhere in the room. "John, you're gonna burn yourself, stop that." He warned him, his cigarette close to John's cheek. He turned his head and blew his smoke next to him. Nobody liked to receive smoke in the face, drunk or not. Paul was too polite to do it anyway.

He frowned when he felt something soft against his cheek. John was kissing his cheek, leaving open-mouthed kisses all along his jawline. Paul knew he was always searching for his attention when he was drunk - but tonight felt a bit different. He turned his head again and put his index on John's lips, softly pushing him away. "Come on, John, don't be like that. I'm almost done, okay? I'll sing a little bit if you want, mh? How's that?"

It was their thing; when John was drunk, Paul would sing, waiting for him to fall asleep. They never talked about it, but it was their little secret. John grinned happily. "Okay, Paulie." He said, his lips pressing against Paul's fingers when he talked. Paul ignored it and started to unbutton John's shirt, blowing his smoke between them, towards John's thighs.

Automatically, he thought about what they had to do this week, mumbling to himself, knowing that John wasn't really listening to him anyway. "Tomorrow, we only have to go back to the studios during the afternoon, George said he needed us to check one of the tracks..." He was about to take John's shirt off when John's hands softly fell on his thigh, quickly wrapping his arms around his stomach with a guilty look. Paul frowned, threw his cigarette in the ashtray and looked at John. "Something's wrong?" He asked, concerned. John never acted like that.

John just mumbled, trying to avoid Paul's stare. "Don't look at me." He whispered. He looked almost sober. It was a bit scary. Paul frowned and pushed John's arms away, taking his shirt off.

"Now, now, don't be daft, Johnny. It's just me. C'mon, here. You can do the same for me, okay? Better?" He asked while putting John's hands on his own chest, smiling when John started to unbutton his shirt in silence, even if he still looked a bit down.

And like that, they both undressed the other. Paul took their pyjamas and put his owns on, helping John with his. Then, he lied down next to him on the bed, yawning. It was exhausting to take care of him.

"Okay, John?" He asked, still a bit worried about the way he acted earlier.

John rolled on his side, looking at him for a moment. Then, he rested his head on Paul's chest, sighing. "Yeah."

Paul frowned, gently caressing his back, wondering if it was because of his body. John was a bit insecure, he knew it... but he never showed it. "Johnny, you can talk to me." No reply. "Okay, then I'll guess it, if you wanna act like that." Silence. "Is it your body?" John started to squirm, uncomfortable. "John, come on, tell me... It's just me."

John shook his head and looked up at Paul, squinting a little bit because his glasses weren't on his nose. "I don't wanna talk about it, bunny." He pressed a kiss on Paul's chest and went back to rest, almost on top of him, calm. "Won't you sing for me, Paulie?"

So Paul sang. The first song that came to his mind; _Corrina, Corrina_ by Bob Dylan. He closed his eyes, singing softly, letting the song calm him down. It was enough to erase his long, long, boring and tiring evening. All that was left was the lyrics, John's slow breathing, Paul's fingers gently brushing his back and coming up to play with his hair in rhythm. They both felt calm and relaxed, John humming along.

When the song ended, they both stayed silent for a minute, just enjoying the moment. Their lives were always so loud; the fans, the press, the gigs, the parties... But for once, it was quiet and they had time to stop and think, to enjoy things.

But Paul was still a little bit concerned about his Johnny, so he broke the silence, whispering. "John, you know I love you, mh? It means that I love your mind... and your body."

John didn't look up this time, but he opened his eyes, staring at nothing. "Then, you're making the wrong choice... Loving me isn't good." He softly said, visibly honest. A sad chuckle left his lips. "Julia can confirm. Well, no, she can't."

Paul frowned. John wasn't usually negative when he drank... but it happened sometimes. "Loving you is more than okay, John. I do. I love you and I'll love you. It's just... like that. I'm not gonna leave you, you know."

John's brown eyes rested in Paul's, his chin softly pressing against his chest. He moved a hand and his fingers soon came to caress his cheek. "How can you be so sure, Paul? Do you love me?"

They both stayed quiet. John had just voiced what they both wondered. Paul never knew where his feelings for John stopped. But he never accepted to think that he was, indeed, in love with him. It was just impossible. They were rock stars. They were famous. Homosexuality was illegal... And John didn't even like him back. It would be stupid to say it. It would kill their careers. Maybe they would even end up in jail!

John softly smiled, his thumb absent-mindedly drawing circles on Paul's cheekbone. "Well, I love you, if you wanna know. You and your stupid cute face." He smiled even more and leaned a little bit closer, his nose touching Paul's.

Paul, who blushed quite hard. He wasn't drunk enough for all of that. When their lips were about to touch, he put his hand in between. "No, no- John, no... not- not like that."

John frowned, tilting his head on the side., repeating his words. "Not like that?"

Paul blushed once again. John thought he would be happy, but his face softly fell, sadly frowning. "I don't want all of that when you're drunk... you won't remember and it just... sucks. I wanna be able to hear it from you... when you're sober, you know."

John pouted and put his head back on his chest with a groan. "But I wanna kiss you." He mumbled, leaving a small kiss on his torso.

"Well, if you- if you still remember all of that tomorrow... then my lips are yours." Paul said, his entire face turning red. He wasn't usually shy, but it felt so weird and new with John that he couldn't help it. "If you remember it, then..." He frowned, trying to think about something. "Then, say, er... _'chaton'_. It's, uh, the French word for kitten..." He shrugged.

John chuckled but nodded. "Okay. Prepare your lips, _chaton_." When the word left his lips, he chuckled again and closed his eyes, visibly happy.

Paul only went back to his bed when John was deeply asleep, head buried in his pillow, softly snoring.

The next morning, Paul woke up pretty late. Elvis' voice was softly echoing in the room, making him smile. So, John was up.

He slowly stood up, getting prepared. His head slightly hurt but he felt fine.

When he stopped to think about the night before, his cheeks heated up.

It felt right to say it when it was just the both of us, singing songs, late at night... but now that he was thinking about it, he should have never done that. John being in love with him? Impossible. He was drunk, he just probably said it like that, not really thinking about it. John was like that. And John was not queer!

Paul softly groaned while going into the bathroom, quickly showering and mumbling about how stupid he was. Under the hot stream of water, he closed his eyes, feeling awfully bad. What if John thought that Paul really loved him? Well, maybe he did, but he didn't want him to know about it, not like that. What if John wanted him to leave the band? He wouldn't be able to do it! The band was... really important for him; John and the boys were important. He needed them every day. He couldn't imagine his days without them around.

He wished John was too hungover to remember.

When he came down to eat his breakfast, George was already there, drinking tea - as always. Ringo was there too, not really awake, his hair looking a mess, still in his pyjamas, staring blankly at his toast.

And John was sitting there too, yawning and reading the newspapers.

Paul swallowed and sat down between George and Ringo. "Hi lads." He said, feeling like running away. He kept his eyes on the plate in front of him, only moving to pour himself a cup of tea.

Richard vaguely hummed back. George looked up and nodded at him, visibly busy with his scrambled eggs. Paul didn't mind; it was always like that anyway.

John groaned and put his newspaper done. "Uh, Paul, d'you have painkillers somewhere? Me head is gonna bloody _explodes_ or something... and I can't even remember a thing!" He complained, putting his glasses on his nose - if he could at least see, it was already better.

He didn't remember! Paul didn't know if he was happy... or disappointed. At least, if John knew, he wouldn't have to hide it anymore... but if he knew, he wouldn't appreciate it anyway.

Even though he knew he didn't actually say a thing. And John actually said he loved him! And he wanted to kiss him. Not just once.

But John was drunk. John wasn't _thinking_ when he was drunk.

"Er, yeah. There are painkillers in the bathroom." The words absent-mindedly floated between them for a few seconds and Paul even wondered if he actually talked, when John finally stood up with a relieved sigh.

"'M gonna get 'em."

And he disappeared in their bedroom.

"Somethin' happened?"

Paul blushed and turned to look at George. Of course. George always noticed everything; it was almost surprising. He shook his head and took a sip of his own tea. "No... no. Nothing." He shrugged.

"You went home with him, mh?" This time, it was Ringo - a sleepy Ringo, but still Ringo. "Everythin' went alright?" As always, he looked like he was just casually asking; but his eyes were shining in this Ringo way.

Once again, he drank, trying not to blush. It was harder than what he thought. "Yeah, yeah."

George was about to talk again when John came back with a small smile on his lips. "Got 'em!" Joy appeared on his face while he sat back down. "Thanks, Paulie, you're saving me life. I was about to die."

Paul just politely smiled back at him, watching him when he took the painkillers, letting his thoughts wander around.

It was probably better that way. He knew it wouldn't be easy now that he realized his own feelings, but it was better without John knowing it too. Who knew what would be his reaction?

And even though Paul knew him better than anyone, John still remained impossible to read. He truly was some kind of moody, violent genius.

Lost in his thoughts, he ate his breakfast, drank his tea. Then, he stood up and started to clean the table. He knew he didn't need to do that - people did it for them - but he felt the need to keep himself busy.

He didn't really listen to John's mumbling. It was always like that. Paul took his plate, put it with the others. He looked at him for a few seconds, wondered why he seemed so disturbed by his own thoughts, and just shrugged it off. John was weird, it was nothing new.

Instead of focusing on him, he started to talk about a new Indian song he heard the day before with George. If at first, George looked suspiciously at him, carefully answering his questions, he chose to ignore everything and started to talk more and more about the song. Paul forgot George could be like that too. It was funny to watch and he wasn't the only one thinking that, giving in to Richard's big smile. They all were standing up, Paul lazily resting a hand on the table, John still sitting down and slowly drinking.

" _Ch... Chaton_?"

Paul froze.

He froze and turned pale in a second. Then, he was bright red, still not moving, not daring to turn his face to actually look at John.

Fuck. How did he remember? Why? When finally Paul thought he could eventually let it go, _why_?

The sound of John's chair made him shiver. He wondered if he could faint just because of how nervous he felt. Did John remember everything? Was he going to punch him? Yell at him?

Paul couldn't close his eyes; he wanted to see it coming, he wasn't crazy! Maybe he could dodge the punch... still, he kept his eyes on his feet. And then, in front of his feet were John's.

Maybe he should run away. Fast. Lock himself up in the bathroom or something like that. He was about to leave when John's fingers stopped on his chin, forcing him to look up.

Paul pressed his eyes shut for a second, swallowed thickly, and finally looked at John.

And then John's lips were on his, rough yet soft, loving and teasing. Paul froze again, not even closing his eyes, not answering the kiss.

The kiss. John was kissing him. John was kissing him! It took him a few seconds to realize it; and when he was about to close his eyes and actually do something, John's lips were gone.

Paul just stood there, lips a bit red, visibly lost. "Uh?" He managed to say, blinking slowly.

John turned his head towards George and Ringo, a bright smirk on his lips. "The kid can't watch that, Rich'. I thought you knew that! Hide your eyes, lads."

And he turned again to look at Paul. His smirk only grew brighter and bigger. " _Chaton_. Your lips are mine, now, mh?"

Paul turned bright red; which was actually rare. Paul, the cute one, always flirting with birds, charming, polite, lovely. Paul was blushing like a schoolgirl!

John chuckled, ignored George's whistle, leaned closer. He took his time, allowing Paul to step back if he didn't feel like it; but he didn't. John put his hand on his cheek, the other around his neck, pulling him closer, smiling when Paul let out a small "oof", his arms automatically wrapped around John's waist.

And then, John kissed him again, wildly. The kind of kiss Paul only saw in movies; he wasn't keen on that kind of kisses... yet, it felt awesome when it was John. Was it love?

He almost moaned when John bit his bottom lip and gently pushed his tongue against his, letting them dance together while his fingers came to play with his hair, their bodies pressed together.

Paul deepened the kiss by himself, a low groan clumsily escaping him.

"Er, lads, can you... avoid shagging in front of us, please?" George's amused voice forced them to break the kiss. They both looked at each other, not even caring about George and Ringo, visibly too lost in each other to even remember them.

Richard sighed, but he was smiling, as always. "Well, congratulations, I guess."

This time, Paul kissed John with a smile on his bruised lips, ignoring George's annoyed groan and Richard's chuckles.


End file.
